


Move Like You Stole It

by Wolvesandwerewolves



Category: Chuck (TV), White Collar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 20:50:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14065329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolvesandwerewolves/pseuds/Wolvesandwerewolves
Summary: Neal calls Bryce for help after Peter accuses him of stealing the Nazi treasure.





	Move Like You Stole It

  
Neal sighed, lazily running a hand through his slightly disheveled hair and sliding his jacket off before collapsing on the couch.   
He glanced at his watch and frowned. It was only five-thirty and yet it felt so much later.

It had been a long day.

Peter was still looking at him as if he were a suspect, even though he passed the polygraph. He was waiting for Neal to make a mistake, watching him like a hawk but keeping his distance. As a result, most of the other agents had been a little more icey towards him, even if they weren’t at the bombed warehouse to see Peter viciously accuse him of stealing the Nazi treasure. Jones and Diana hadn’t said a word of what happened, but it was all too obvious that something was going on. Neal was trying to subtly suck up to Peter, while Peter was obviously ignoring him.

Mozzie was very firmly suggesting that they simply take off. Even if Neal hadn’t stolen the art, he knew where it was, thanks to an anonymous business card and key leading to a storage unit. He wanted to fence off a few paintings, maybe some jewelry, and then high tail it to some small, exotic island without extradition where no one would ever find them again. Neal was very firmly staying in place, even if he was feeling less and less at home in the White Collar offices every day.

It was dangerous to leave, especially with the art. They still weren’t sure who had broken into his apartment and left him the key. There were no signs of the door being picked. No sign of how they got in or who they were. Mozzie scanned the place for bugs, twice, and thankfully found nothing. He even searched the whole place for fingerprints and only found his own and Neal’s, along with a few of June’s and Peter’s prints. Neal still had black dust in the apartment to clean up from the testing, in crooks and corners he wasn’t sure how Mozzie had even fit into.

As far as they knew, whoever had ever so kindly gifted them with the art, did so in order to frame them—which, given the way things were going, wouldn’t be too hard to do. If they were to fence anything, like Mozzie was suggesting, it could put everything into motion and they could both end up in prison instead of sipping wine or champagne on the beach.

Then again, if they were to just leave everything alone, as they had been doing since they got the card, it still wouldn’t be too hard to frame them. A simple anonymous call revealing a location and Neal and Mozzie could find themselves behind bars in forty seconds flat. And that was only if prison was the end game. As far as they knew, it could be so much worse than that.

Just in case, Moz had set up a few cameras in the storage unit to see if whoever had actually stolen the art would drop by, but so far, nothing.

No face, no motive, nothing.

Neal sighed again and leaned his head against the edge of the couch, closing his eyes. He heard the door swing open, heard the click of the latch as it was shut again. Glasses rattled together and after a few seconds there was the unmistakable pop of the cork being pulled out. Neal smiled.

“Get me a glass, will you, Moz?”

“As if you even have to ask. Long day working for the Man?”

Neal opened his eyes to find Mozzie standing over him with two full glasses in his hands and a bottle cradled in the crook of his arm. He accepted the wine gratefully as Moz sat down next to him.

“Any day is long when Peter looks at me like . . .”

“Like what? Like you’re a criminal? You are. That’s why he hired you.”

“No, Moz, he’s always known what I am. It’s worse than that.” He took a sip of the wine, nodding in appreciation. “Anything?”

“Well, Alex didn’t steal the treasure.”

“We knew that.”

“No, you assumed that. I confirmed it. She is, however, slightly annoyed that we were just _given_ the treasure that’s she’s been searching for her entire life.”

“Slightly?” Neal raised his eyebrows.

“Okay, very. She was very annoyed. She used words like _birthright_ and _life’s work_. I believe she’s planning on sabotaging you at work.”

“Great. I look forward to it.” Neal rolled his eyes and slumped into his chair slightly more.

“If it matters,” Mozzie continued, eyeing him sympathetically, “I tried to talk her out of it.”

“Did you?”

Mozzie hesitated, sipping his own wine. “Only time will tell.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course. What are friends for?”

Neal nodded appreciatively, lifting his glass to his lips carelessly. He let a few moments of silence pass between them before clearing his throat. “Moz, I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”

Mozzie raised his eyebrows. “But?”

“But, I called in reinforcements.”

“Your brother?”

Neal nodded. “I called him this afternoon, just for an update. He didn’t tell me where he was, but he answered the call in Spanish.”

“Y’know, I liked him a lot more _before_ he gave his mind to the government. Where did I go wrong with you two?”

“Oh, I don’t think it was anything you did, Mozzie. He was recruited at Stanford, remember? Besides, I think he believes you about the moon landing.”

“Alas, I didn’t get to him soon enough.”

Neal raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips, in an exasperated look that said _really?_ “In three or so hours, I’ll be meeting him at one of his safe houses.”

“I’m guessing he didn’t tell you where exactly.”

Neal shook his head. “No, just like last time. Anonymous black car.”

“Government issued, I’m assuming. Government driver.”

“Of course,” Neal said, nodding tiredly.

“Hmm.” Mozzie lifted his wine to his lips, nodding thoughtfully. “How long will they be in town?”

“No telling. How long will you be gone?”

“As long as my sanity requires. If it were just your brother, I’d stay. But if you lie down with dogs . . .”

Neal almost rolled his eyes, but nodded in acknowledgement. “You get up with fleas,” he finished, scrunching his nose in distaste. “I’ll take care of Percy for you.”

“That would be much appreciated. If you need anything, call on Estelle.” Moz stood up slowly, stretching his back and finishing his wine. “I’ll let you get ready for an ambush of governmental suppression of rights. Say hello to Bryce for me.”

Neal sarcastically saluted his friend. “Of course.”

Maybe if they couldn't get to the bottom of this, Bryce could. Even if they couldn't, maybe they could at least con Peter and the others into trusting Neal again. 

 

If not . . . Well, the treasure awaited them. Perhaps it would be enough to get Bryce to finally retire.


End file.
